"Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. He turned his back on that temptation. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. He suggested they take the remains of the household to his country estate, where he could at least hunt through the winter to provide them venison and grouse. She had one idea, she found, very clear in her mind—that she would get a Research Scholarship, and so contrive another year in the laboratory. Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed. The room seemed a vacuum.
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